


Worth Waiting For

by cxw1065



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Marriage of Convenience, Mutually Unrequited, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:25:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxw1065/pseuds/cxw1065





	1. The Worst Beginning

He hated her. 

That was the only explanation for the position he had put her in this evening. She had always realised he disliked her, but only today had she realised the depth of his hatred.  
As she stood shivering in the midnight blue gown he had bought for her earlier that day, the little spark of anger which had come to life that afternoon was the only thing keeping her warm.

“Jiya.”

Jiya turned as she heard her name spoken; her companion for the evening stood next to a large black car, the door of which was being held open by a uniformed chauffeur.

The inside of the car looked invitingly warm and Jiya decided it would be far more sensible to vent her anger in comfort rather than in the piercing cold of a January night in London.

Without a word, she turned and walked to the car, only a slight hitch in her step as she saw the hand he was holding out to her. It took only a split second to evaluate how hard it would be to enter that car gracefully without his assistance; inwardly grimacing, Jiya took his hand and slid into the soft leather seat.

The door closed behind her and for a moment she was alone. She caught sight of the reflection in the rear view mirror and for a second could hardly recognise the woman she saw there as herself. Hair teased up into a gravity-defying yet utterly feminine style, eyes which had somehow been made to look huge and mysterious, lips which were still perfectly coloured dark red; she had never even imagined she could look like this and she was absolutely sure she didn’t like it. Jiya couldn’t wait to get back home and wash the goop off her face; there was something deeply unsettling about seeing herself this way and she craved a return to her own ordinary looks.

As the seconds became minutes, she wondered what was taking so long. It was just like him to leave her sitting there whilst he talked to people he actually wanted to spend time with. He was the one who had needed her company this evening, only to spend the whole time actively avoiding any conversation with her. And now, when all she wanted to do was get home, he was still staying away from her. Jiya sat there, anger growing with every passing minute, just waiting for the person who was keeping her waiting to get in so that she could give him a piece of her mind.

*******************************************************************************

Outside the car, the man stood silent and alone. The chauffeur had gone to the driver’s seat, but the man still stood in the silence of the freezing night, for once unsure what his next step should be.

Danyal Zaheer was not a man much given to self doubt, nor was he normally indecisive. This evening, however, had been an utter disaster and he couldn’t quite think how best to make Jiya stop hating him.

Jiya, his youngest sister’s best friend. Jiya, the thorn in his side who had somehow transformed into the woman he was foolishly in love with.

A bitter smile appeared on his face as he imagined her reaction to any declaration of adoration from him. The first response would surely be horror, followed by disbelief, followed in turn by an absolute determination to avoid him at every turn.

Danyal had known Jiya for as long as he could remember. Seven years younger than him, she had met his youngest sister Sofia on their first day at primary school and from that day on they had been best friends. That friendship had lasted over thirty years, surviving Jiya’s time at medical school and subsequent nightmarish years of training as well as Sofia’s marriage and the subsequent birth of her three children; it was now stronger than ever.

Danyal could almost not remember a time before Jiya was in his life. He remembered swimming lessons when they were children, birthday parties where he ‘helped’ to blow out the candles on her cake, remembered being irritated by her constant presence in their home, remembered the joint family holidays that had been a yearly tradition. He even remembered the subtle pressure applied by their parents for a short period about ten years ago for he and Jiya to become a couple and turn the longstanding family friendship into family ties.

At the time, nothing could have been less appealing than a lifetime spent with Jiya as his wife. She had been of a like mind, and between them they had withstood the pressure from the two sets of parents.

How things had changed, on his part at least. At some point in the last few years, he had fallen deeply and passionately in love with Jiya. There had been no blinding flash of light to highlight his change of heart, no one moment when he suddenly knew, but somehow she had become so dear to him that he was almost unable to comprehend himself how deeply he needed her. It was no boyish infatuation, bearing no similarity to those passing fancies he had had in his youth; at the age of forty-three, he knew who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

His problem was, however, that the woman he loved could not have disliked him more. His relationship with Jiya, had for all intents and purposes always been an antagonistic one. 

The number of times they had actually agreed with each other could probably be counted on the fingers of two hands. The truth was, however, that over the last few years he had kept up the arguments and disagreements simply because it was what Jiya (and the world) expected from him. Any time he had tried to change their relationship to a more friendly one, Jiya reacted with suspicion and retreated from him.

Even this evening, this dinner he had brought her to had been an attempt to bring things to a more friendly footing between them, and it had been far from the evening he had hoped for. 

**********************************************************************************

It had taken Sofia’s intervention to persuade Jiya to accompany him, his sister spinning a tale about having promised to accompany him but having to pull out at the last moment. It was Sofia who had persuaded Jiya to let him buy the outrageously expensive dress she was wearing, telling her that he owed it to her for jumping in at the last minute.

It was Sofia who had also inadvertently turned the evening into a disaster. She had somehow persuaded Jiya to have what she termed a ‘make-over’, dragging her off despite her attempts to escape. When he had finally seen her come down the stairs in her parents’ home, Danyal had been struck almost dumb by how different she looked. Gone was the woman he knew and loved, and in her place was a woman he almost didn’t recognise. 

Danyal had accepted his love for Jiya for some time but he had always shied away from thinking about his physical attraction to her, somehow feeling as if it wasn’t fair to think of her in that way when she so clearly despised him. Seeing her in this new avatar made him unable to deny how completely he wanted her, his libido roaring to life to remind him how much he normally suppressed his desire.

Unfortunately, the tight control he had to exert on his expression to stop himself from appearing overcome with lust had somehow appeared to Jiya to be an expression of distaste. 

Immediately on the defensive, she had said “I’m sorry if I don’t live up to the supermodels you’re used to having on your arm, but do try and remember I’m standing in for your sister, after she begged me to not let you turn up to this Gala alone. I’m quite happy to turn around and go back upstairs and change out of this torturous outfit, believe me”.

It had taken Sofia’s intervention to stop her from doing just that; by the time he had got himself in hand enough to tell her she looked lovely, his words appeared to be platitudes and her reaction was suitably dismissive.

As they had taken their seats in the car, Jiya had said “Look, I’m just here in Sofia’s place, aren’t I? Just think of me as your sister”.

No words could have made him more aware of how hard a battle he had to fight to get Jiya to return his feelings. Feeling slightly bruised, he had made himself bite out “You’re not my sister. You’ll never be my sister”.

The hurt look on her face had made him realise how badly his words could be misinterpreted. Rather than dig an even deeper hole for himself, he had chosen to stay silent.

By the time they had arrived at the venue, she was clearly furious with him, and the evening hadn’t improved from there. To everyone they met, she had been charming, captivating the other partners from his company as well as their spouses and clients. To him, she had been frosty, turning away any time he tried to start a conversation. It had left him utterly frustrated and eventually he had walked away, sure that if he stayed near her he would eventually embarrass himself by begging her to talk to him. 

Within a few minutes he had realised what a mistake it was to leave her alone, returning to the table to find her chatting comfortably with one of his friends, a man well known for his appreciation for beautiful women. It had taken some not-so-subtle posturing to warn the other man off, and that had been enough to raise Jiya’s ire even further.

As soon as she could, she had coldly asked him if they could leave, leaving with no option but to acquiesce.

**********************************************************************************

And so here they were, together but apart. Standing there, he found himself uncharacteristically indecisive. The brain that helped him make multi-million pound business decisions found itself in a fight with his heart. The sensible part of him knew that making any kind of declaration tonight was asking for disaster and rejection; the heart of him, overflowing with love he longed to share, wanted to get into the car and tell Jiya exactly how much he loved her.

As he stood there, unable to decide what to do, the driver’s door opened.

“Sir, is everything alright. The lady is asking how long you’re going to be” the driver said.

“I’m ready, let’s go” he replied.

And with that, he turned and pulled the car door open, still unsure what he was going to do.


	2. The Drive Home

As he settled back into the luxurious car seat, Danyal could see that his companion was certainly not in any mood to listen to anything he had to say.  Biting back a sigh of frustration, he realised the decision was made; even trying to talk to Jiya tonight was likely to make the situation a hundred times worse.

With her body angled away from him, looking determinedly out of the window, Jiya was making it crystal clear that he was not someone she was in the mood to even acknowledge, let alone be willing to listen to anything he had to say.  He closed his eyes and lay his head back against the head rest, feeling strangely morose. Perhaps this was just a sign that he and Jiya were not meant to be; better to have the little scraps of her that he had now than lose her entirely.

The drive from the Barbican to his house just outside London normally took well over an hour; even with the empty roads at that time of night,  the journey took almost that much.  For the entire journey, Jiya didn’t look at him once; didn’t acknowledge his existence or turn away from the apparently engrossing view from the car window.  He spent his time studying her; it was something he didn’t often get a chance to do, just spend time with her even if it was in utter silence and with her clearly furious with him.

There was nothing particularly special about her, to the uninterested eye. At the age of 37, Jiya looked much younger but she was otherwise ‘no supermodel’ as she had put it. She was............average, to the uninterested eye. And yet, there was something about her which always drew a second look.  He remembered times when they had been out together, either with Sofia or with friends or with the entire family group. Jiya was always the one who drew the second glance, from both men and women.  Some were admiring, some envious, some captivated, but all for Jiya rather than other members of the group.  For years, it had irritated him; he had struggled to see what differentiated her from others. He had thought it was Jiya, somehow blaming her for attention seeking, even when she had done nothing to draw the eye.

And then, about five years ago, he had come home from a business trip. 

_Walking in to his family home, he had heard her laugh. Irrationally irritated by her presence, he stomped into the kitchen, fully planning to ignore her whilst he grabbed some food to take to his apartment. He had stopped, his hand on the fridge door, suddenly captivated as she laughed again.  There was such utter happiness in her laugh that he turned to look at her, and it was at that moment that he finally saw what others did.  Perhaps the years of familiarity had hidden it from him till that moment, but somehow at that moment the scales fell from his eyes.  In that moment, she suddenly appeared so different from the Jiya he had known for so long, and yet she had done nothing different.  In contrast to so many women he met, she had done absolutely nothing to gain his interest; indeed she didn’t even know he was there, and yet he was fascinated. The line of her back as she bent double with laughter captivated him; her unrestrained glee absolutely mesmerised him._

_Aware he was staring, he turned back to the fridge, using the time it took to extract a bottle of cold water to compose himself.  Another moment passed, her laughter continuing behind him, till without a word he slipped from the kitchen; he didn’t think Jiya had even seen him, so engrossed had she been in playing with Sofia’s youngest, then only a year old._

That had been the start of his realisation. Over the past five years, he had gone from that strange fascination to an abiding love. The strange thing was, Jiya herself hadn’t changed. She was still the same she had always been; there was nothing different about the way she treated him or acted around him, or indeed in the way which she acted over all. It wasn’t any change in Jiya herself which prompted him to fall in love with her after a lifetime of knowing her. Instead, it seemed that his love was an inevitability, and the years he had spent _not_ loving her were the wasted ones. Perhaps he hadn’t recognised the possibility before; perhaps he hadn’t wanted to think about her simply because their parents had once suggested that they would make a good couple.  Perhaps he simply needed to grow up enough to realise how perfect for him she was.

But he had realised, eventually. It was an unfortunate truth that she hadn’t undergone a similar transformation in her feelings (or at least if she had, she kept it as well hidden as he did, and he wasn’t self-deluded enough to think that).

As the car drew to a stop, Danyal looked up and realised they had reached his house.  Inwardly he groaned; he had been so lost in his thoughts that he had managed to give Jiya the impression that he was ignoring her.  For a moment he was tempted to just rest his head back and just pretend he had fallen asleep.  The temptation passed as he realised that he had to try and ensure that Jiya would at least be still talking to him when the evening was over.

The driver switched the engine off and got out, obviously planning to open the door for Danyal.  In that moment of privacy, Danyal turned to his silent companion, saying “This evening didn’t really go the way I had imagined”.

He saw her take a deep breath in and prepared himself to face her ire.  A moment later, she slowly breathed out and said “Danyal, please can we just go in. I’m tired, my feet are killing me in these heels and I have work tomorrow. There’s not really anything else to say”.

Before he could say anything else, Danyal heard the car door being open. With a sigh, he gave in to the inevitable and got out of the car.  Nodding at the driver, he moved round to Jiya’s side of the car and pulled the door open, just as Jiya seemed to be opening the door herself.

She looked up, startled, slightly overbalanced as the door she was pushing open was pulled away from her. After a second, she caught herself then sighed.

 

“Thank you. Would you mind?” she said, holding out her improbably small purse.  He took it from her silently, watching as she swung her legs out of the car. Her feet were bare, and he bit back a smile as he saw the ridiculously high heeled shoes in her hand. 

The desire to smile vanished as he saw the wince on her face as she stood out of the car; feeling ridiculously guilty for having forced her into a situation where she had to wear clothes she was so uncomfortable in, he stifled an urge to just sweep her off her feet and carry her into the house.  He knew that if he even attempted such a move, her cries of horror would rouse his entire family and he’d be left red-faced as he tried to explain himself.

“Can I...?”

His voice trailed away as he held out his hand; with a sigh she took it and let him help her hobble towards the front door.  A glimpse of her shoes made him grimace as he saw something red.

“Jiya, are you bleeding? I mean, are your feet bleeding?” he said, in a horrified voice.

“It’s nothing, don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.  I have sensitive feet, I never handle new shoes well, especially high heels.  And before you say it, yes- even someone like me has to have some sensitive part to her. Mine are my feet”.

Temper flaring, Danyal was on the verge of delivering a biting response when he glanced down and saw Jiya’s face; it was pale and tired under the makeup Sofia had so skilfully applied.

“Jiya.....” he sighed, “Let’s just get inside. We’re both tired and as you said, we have work tomorrow. Let’s just put this evening down as a bust.”

She huffed out a breath, then said “I’m sorry, I’m being catty. My feet hurt and I’m just dreading the whole day on my feet tomorrow. Listen, the evening wasn’t so bad. You got to see the contacts you needed to and I met some nice people. I’ve even had an invitation for coffee.........”

As she spoke, she opened the front door and stepped inside, flicking the light switch as she passed it. He pulled the door closed behind them, then turned and ran as he heard her shocked exclamation.

“Jiya?”

The sight that met his eyes stopped him dead in his tracks. Jiya was kneeling on the floor next to his mother’s still body, her fingers checking the pulse in her neck.  A moment later, she had her hands placed in the middle of her chest and had started what he recognised as chest compressions.

“Danyal, call an ambulance now- put the phone on speaker so I can talk to them. NOW Danyal.”


	3. Aftermath

Danyal was a man used to controlling stressful situations, but nothing in his life had prepared him for  seeing his mother lying there with someone pumping her heart to try and restart it.   He managed to dial ‘nine nine nine’ and ask for an ambulance, but that was it; he was able to do nothing more than hold the phone as Jiya talked to the emergency services.

Jiya. Thank God for Jiya. The moment she had found his mother, her exhaustion vanished, professional instinct over-riding any emotion. She worked without stopping, minute upon minute upon minute, beads of sweat dropping from her brow and her beautiful dress soaked through with sweat by the time the paramedics arrived. 

As they took over, she sat back for a moment, watching as the paramedics attached monitors and inserted a drip.  He heard a climbing whining noise, then saw his mother’s body jerk; letting out a harsh exclamation he stepped forward, only for Jiya to stop him before he could do anything.

“Let them work” she said, her hand resting in the middle of his chest.

A moment later he heard a muffled exclamation from the paramedics; both he and Jiya turned to see the paramedics swiftly start to move his mother onto their trolley-bed.

“Her heart is beating again, for now” one of the paramedics said “we need to get her to hospital.” Jiya nodded, again pressing against his chest before he could say anything.

“Where will you take her?” she asked the paramedic.  The gruff man named a local hospital which was renowned for its heart-related services.

Jiya nodded again, saying “You’ll take her straight to the cath-lab?” As the paramedic answered in the affirmative, Danyal swallowed the frustration he felt at his inability to understand the short-hand they shared. A few moments later, he watched as his mother was wheeled past him, a reassuring ‘beep beep beep’ the only sign that she was still alive.

He turned to Jiya, but she pre-empted any questions he had.

“Listen to me. Go and get the car. Now. I’ll be down in two minutes and then we’re going to go to Hareview hospital. I’ll call your family on the way.”

Turning and running up the stairs, she called down “Get the car, Danyal, NOW”. Stripping the evening gown off, she dressed quickly in a t-shirt and slacks and ran out to where Danyal was sitting impatiently with the car already in gear.

Five minutes later, they were driving down the empty streets of London, the satellite navigation system’s commands the only thing he was concentrating on.  He was speeding, using every bit of driving skill he had to shave every extra second off their journey; as he drove, he could hear Jiya on the phone to various members of his family, informing them of the calamitous events of the evening and organising what needed to be done. Within twenty minutes they had arrived at the hospital and were running into the reception area.

A calm receptionist was sitting there, clearly more than used to dealing with families in similar circumstances.

“The post-arrest patient that was just brought in by blue-light, we’re her family” stated Jiya.

“Of course” the receptionist answered soothingly. “If you’ll just have a seat in this waiting area, I’ll let the clinicians know and try and get an update”

As the man guided them to a quiet room clearly designated for people in just their situation, Danyal’s brain finally began to work again. He glanced down at his watch; it was barely forty-five minutes since he and Jiya had arrived home after their ill-fated dinner, with still fifteen minutes to go before midnight.

He watched as Jiya sank into one of the uncomfortable looking chairs; unable to stay still for a moment, he stood looking down at her as she took a deep breath.

“Jiya, please. Tell me what just happened. Tell me what’s happening now. Please.”

As she looked up at him, he could see her mind working, considering the best way to say whatever she needed to.

“Jiya, don’t sugarcoat it. I know it hasn’t seemed like it over the last forty-five minutes, but I can take anything you need to tell me. Just tell me clearly, what’s going on?”

She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

“Will you sit?” she asked; when he responded with a shake of his head, she took another deep breath then spoke.

“Danyal, your mother collapsed because her heart stopped. It must have been moments before we walked in. The paramedics managed to start her heart again, but she needs an angiogram.”

She paused, then looked straight into his eyes.

“You have to be prepared, Danyal, you have to know how bad this is. I don’t know what will happen. Just pray that...”

The words hit him like a punch in the solar plexus. It wasn’t that he hadn’t understood the seriousness of what had happened when he saw Jiya having to pump his mother’s heart; he had. It was just that it hadn’t sunk; it didn’t seem real that he might lose her, even now.

Danyal felt his knees give way as he collapsed into the chair; he couldn’t think, his mind spinning. Somehow, despite his age, he had never thought about either of his parents dying; there had never been any reason to.

They say there in silence, the minutes ticking away as each of them stayed lost in their thoughts. Jiya had forced herself to go into work-mode, thinking about prognosis and practicalities and what needed to be done. She looked at her phone repeatedly, waiting for the calls that would start to come as soon as people got the messages she had sent.

Every now and then, she glanced up at the man sitting silently opposite her. His face was blank, his eyes terrified. Jiya had never seen him so vulnerable before; it gave her an odd feeling to see his feelings laid bare.

She wondered if she should say something to reassure him, but it wasn’t in her to give anyone false reassurances. Jiya couldn’t bring herself to lie to him, tell him that everything would definitely be okay, and so she stayed silent. In truth, she didn’t think he was even aware of her presence.

Just as she finally couldn’t bear the silence anymore, the door to the room opened and a woman wearing sweat-soaked scrubs walked in.

“I’m Dr Rehman, I’m one of the cardiology consultants. Are you Mrs Zaheer's family?”

Danyal stood to face the doctor, saying “I’m her son. How is she?”

The doctor turned to Danyal and said “She’s alive, she was breathing for herself and her blood pressure was good. That’s the good news. The not so good news is that she has had a heart attack; that was why her heart had stopped. We’ve done an angioplasty and she’s got a few stents now, but she collapsed because of a heart attack.

“If your friend,” she continued, glancing at Jiya “hadn’t done what she did, if it had been just a little bit longer before you found her, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.”

Jiya saw Danyal inhale sharply as the doctor’s meaning sank in.

Before he could say anything, the doctor spoke again “We’ve sedated your mum; we’ll be taking her to the Intensive Care Unit as soon as we can. She’ll stay sedated over the next twenty-four hours and then we’ll see. I’ve got to warn you, sir, this is still a really serious situation. I don’t know how she’s going to do. I’ve got to tell you that there’s still a high possibility she might die.”

Danyal sank back into the chair behind him, covering his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry to be so blunt,” said Dr Rehman, “but you need to understand; we are nowhere near out of the woods yet. We’ve got no way of knowing whether she’s had any injury to her brain as a result of her heart stopping; we have to wait till we try and wake her to get a better idea about that. I’m afraid the next twenty-four hours are a waiting game.”

Jiya had been sitting silently, letting the doctor address herself to Danyal, but as Dr Rehman turned to let herself out of the room, she heard Danyal ask “Dr Rehman, can we see her, before she goes to intensive care?”

The doctor glanced at Danyal, judging the best thing to do.

Realising that this was something Danyal needed, Jiya spoke up.

“Just for a second, please. I’m Jiya Yaqoub, I’m an EM consultant, I’ll explain to Danyal what to expect. Just let us see his mum for a minute then we’ll wait till she’s settled in ITU. Please.”

Understanding why the doctor was hesitating, Jiya tried not to be too pushy but it was clear that Danyal just needed to see that his mother was alive.

Dr Rehman turned to look at Jiya, weighing up her words and assessing whether she really was a medic too. Something must have convinced her because she said “That explains it. Alright, Dr Yaqoub, let me just go and get her sorted out then I’ll come and get you. Will you start explaining to your friend what he should expect? I’ll be back soon.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the room.

The two people left behind stared at each other for a moment before Jiya said “Danyal, you have to prepare yourself, okay. Your mum is going to look pretty rough. Are you hearing me?”

She got up and walked over to where he was sitting, kneeling in front of him so that she could look up into his face. Wondering if he was taking in anything she was saying, she put a hand on his knee and shook it a little.

At that, he looked straight at her; the worry in his eyes was clear to see.

“Don’t worry, Jiya. I won’t fall to bits. Tell me.”

“She’ll have a tube in her mouth, that’ll be helping her breathe. Just, she won’t look like her, maybe. Don’t be too shocked, okay?”

It was ridiculous how hard it was to talk to Danyal about his mother, the woman she had called Aunty Maryam for the last thirty years. This conversation was one that she had daily with the relatives of her patients, but at that moment she couldn’t quite get her words out in the right order.

“I’ll be there with you. She’ll be okay.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to kick herself; she knew better than to provide false reassurances in this kind of situation.

Before she could qualify her statement, he said “Thank you Jiya.”

He put his hand over hers where it was still resting on his knee and continued “Whatever happens, thank you.”

Stupidly, his words brought tears into her eyes, but before she could say anything else Dr Rehman walked back into the room.

“You can both see Mrs Zaheer for a few minutes; they’re almost ready for her on ITU but you can stay with her till they call.”

She stood back to allow Jiya and Danyal out of the room ahead of her then guided them to where Maryam Ali was being looked after.

Jiya hung back, intending to let Danyal have a moment alone with his mother; she was shocked to feel his hand on her wrist, keeping her with him.

“Just, stay with me, please. Explain what’s happening.”

Leaving her hand in his grasp, Jiya began talking as they walked forward together, kept explaining what they could see and what would happen next.

She stayed with him as the anaesthetist standing at his mother’s head talked to him and when the team arrived from the Intensive Care Unit to take his mother away.

He didn’t let go of her hand even when they walked back into the relatives’ room to wait for the rest of the family to arrive, seemingly unaware of his hold on her.

It wasn’t until Sofia walked into the room that he let go of Jiya’s hand, as his sister threw herself into his arms and started crying.

Even when the rest of the family started arriving, beginning with Danyal’s father, Jiya could feel the warmth of his fingers on her wrist. That sensation didn’t leave her for a very long time.


End file.
